Chapter 28 Now
“You were quiet tonight,” Alex says. He’s rubbing a towel over his wet hair, his threadbare shirt sticking to his skin in places where he missed it when drying off.
I ease onto the bed and slip beneath the sheets. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he says. “That’s not why I brought it up. I was just… worried about you. Quiet isn’t really your thing.”
I narrow my eyes at him playfully. “Coming from you.”
He eases onto the edge of the bed, the far side. It’s not far enough. It’s infinitely too far away. “We’re two Chatty Cathies. Part of what makes us good friends. Never a quiet moment. Or a dull one.”
I smile as I roll toward him beneath the sheets and clasp his hand. “It made me happy,” I tell him, “seeing you and Jen spend time together with Mia today.”
Alex is quiet for a moment, turning his hand inside mine, rubbing our palms together. “It made me happy, too. We should have been doing more of that all along. It…” He blows out a breath, clears his throat. “It means a lot to Mia. That’s what we should have been focused on—her, not us.”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “But you were both hurting. Healing takes time.”
He nods, staring down at our hands. “We had a good talk tonight. About trying to do more of that when we’re back home. Just, you know, brief outings. A meal here and there, taking her to activities together at school.”
I squeeze his hand. “That sounds amazing, Alex.”
“You think?”
I smile. “I know.”
He smiles, too, and then his gaze drifts toward the sliding doors leading out to the small balcony off the bedroom, the dark sky, the ocean rolling beneath it. “Don’t think Ethan will share your enthusiasm, but he can get fucked, as far as I’m concerned.”
I roll onto my back, anger churning through me.
Alex glances back at me. “What?”
I shake my head.
“Ted.” He leans in, then winces.
“Lie down,” I tell him, lifting back the sheets. “Please?”
Alex searches my eyes. “You sure?”
“Very much, yes,” I tell him.
A spark of light hits his eyes, a flicker of joy. So many shared memories between us.
He eases down, carefully sliding his legs beneath the sheets. A long, relieved sigh gusts out of him. Alex peers over at me, lifting his arm. “Cuddle talk?”
I scooch toward Alex, careful not to jostle him as I settle in, as I rest my head on his shoulder. His hand finds my hair, fingertips grazing along my scalp like he’s done so many times before. “What’s going on, Ted?”
“Ethan,” I say quietly. “He really pissed me off today.”
Alex freezes. “What did that fucker do.”
“Relax.”
“I’d prefer to know what he did first. Then I’ll decide between relaxing in this bed or sharpening my knives.”
I roll my eyes. “No jokes about homicide.”
“Disagree,” Alex says.
“He said some shitty things. Unsupportive things,” I say quietly. “Things that make me worry he won’t be supportive of what you and Jen are trying to be better at, for Mia. He feels… threatened by that, I think.”
Alex is quiet for a moment. “Ted. I’m sorry he upset you, that he burdened you with that. But, it’s… not your burden to carry.”
I sit up suddenly, staring down at him. “Why not?”
Alex looks up at me, a little wide-eyed, surprised. “Because that’s for Jen to deal with and, at worst, for me to step up in support of her.”
“It is my burden to carry. Because it’s about Mia.
And I love her. Because, if Ethan keeps being fucking Ethan, with his shitty attitude toward her and you and Jen trying to be together more as parents for her, he’ll hurt Mia,” I say thickly.
Suddenly, my vision is blurry. Tears swim in my eyes.
“You don’t know what it’s like, growing up around people who make you feel like your existence is a nuisance they’d rather not deal with.
It’s terrible, Alex; she doesn’t deserve that—”
“Hey.” Alex yanks me down, grunting with pain as he does. He crushes me inside his arms, holding me tight as I cry quietly at first, then harder, turning to muffle my face against his chest. Everyone’s in bed, but it’s a small, echoey house. I don’t want Mia to hear me.
“Ted,” he whispers, kissing my hair.
I scrunch my eyes shut at the pain-pleasure of it. He doesn’t do it often, but whenever he does, it makes me ache so fiercely I feel like I’m going to collapse in on myself.
“Ted, it’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” I say hoarsely.
“It will be,” he says. “Because I’m going to talk to Jen. And we’re going to hold Ethan accountable. He won’t hurt Mia. I promise.”
“You swear?” I pull back far enough to meet his eyes, clutching at his shirt.
He smiles softly, tucking a curl behind my ear, his gaze roaming my face. “I swear.”
Relief washes over me. I trust Alex. I know if he says he’ll do something, he’ll do it. I don’t know how exactly it will play out, what it will take, but I know he’ll make sure Mia’s safe, that she’s protected, that no one will get to make her doubt she’s loved.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Alex turns slowly, curling me in his arms so we’re both on our sides, face-to-face, heads resting on the same pillow. For minutes, we just look at each other, nothing but the roar of the ocean filling the room, the sounds of our steady breathing.
“Ted,” he says quietly, his fingers drifting through my curls. “I hate when you cry.”
“I know,” I tell him. “But you’ve never told me not to.”
He nods. “It kills me when you’re hurting, though. I want to go whip up a cake or a plate of pasta, put a smile on your face.”
“No more cooking for you,” I tell him. “You’re hurting, too, in case you think I didn’t notice.”
“Nah.”
I poke his stomach. “Honesty,” I remind him.
“Yeah,” he sighs, deflating. “I’m hurting.”
“Can I rub it?” I ask.
Alex bites his lip. I roll my eyes. “You really are a twelve-year-old inside.”
“Eternally,” he admits.
“Your back,” I meant.
“That’s all right.”
I prop myself on one shoulder, looking down at him. “Would it help? Honesty,” I remind him again.
Alex peers up at me, something tight in his expression. “Yes. And no.”
My heart stutters as I stare down at him. “Why?”
Alex searches my eyes. Long silent seconds stretch out between us. “You sure you want me to answer that? Because we’ve gotten this close to it before, Ted, and every time you turned me away.”
“Turned us away,” I say quietly, fresh tears pricking my eyes. I pick up his hand and bring it to my cheek. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Why?” he asks quietly, turning his hand inside mine, cupping my cheek. “Why did you?”
“I was scared,” I whisper hoarsely. “I was scared of anything that could take us past where we were, because where we were was so good. And anything beyond that good… it could become bad. Friendships last, Alex. Relationships… they end.”
Alex says gently, “Friendships are relationships, Ted. And those can end, too.”
“Not ours,” I whisper. “We’d never let it.”
“No?” he says, tipping his head. “How would it play out then, when you found someone, or I did? You’re telling me we’d just keep on doing what we’ve been doing—”
“No.” I shake my head wildly, pinning his hand to my cheek. “I couldn’t think about that—”
“Exactly,” he says softly, tenderly. “And why is that?”
I stare down at him, shaking with the fear of it, the magnitude of it inside me, years of love and longing denied and buried, pushed down over and over, screaming to be let out. “Because I want you. And I don’t want anyone else to have you.”
Emotion tightens his face, air gusts out of him. “God, Ted.”
I’m crying, trembling as I cling to his hand, to him. That’s all I’ve done for two years—cling to him, to what made me feel safe, to what gave me enough love to live on without living in constant fear that I’d lose it.
“I’ve been so selfish,” I whisper.
He shakes his head, blinking rapidly. His eyes are wet. “No, you haven’t. You’ve been scared, Ted. I was scared, too.”
I search his eyes. “Was?”
He smiles crookedly, his thumb sweeping over my cheek.
“A man has needs. And eventually, those needs become much louder than his common sense, or any kind of life lesson. I want you, too,” he says roughly.
“But I wanted you more than that want, and I knew that meant I had to take you the way you’d let me have you.
You made it clear, last year, that’s what you wanted.
But the other day, when you first saw the beach, when you looked at me, it felt like…
maybe that had changed, or that… it could change. One day.”
I nod as I turn my face and kiss his hand. “You’re disturbingly good at reading my mind.”
“Sometimes,” he concedes. “But in some ways, I have very much been stumbling around in the dark. This place,” he says, “most of all.”
“Because I kept you there.” I feel so guilty, so ashamed.
Alex tugs me down into his arms, holding me close. “I don’t fault you for that, Ted. You needed the time you needed. I was always going to be here, waiting for you on the other side of that.”
I bury my face in his neck, careful not to squeeze too hard, even though I want to, even though I’m dying to pour out, to show him how much he means to me, how much his love, his patient, steady love means to my battered heart.
“Always?” I ask quietly. “How long are we talking?”
“As long as my right hand kept working,” he says dryly.
I snort. “Fair.” I stare at him, my humor dying away. “Maybe… maybe I can make up for lost time? Give your right hand a break?”
Alex stares down at me, a wry smile on his mouth. “If we did, I’d prefer if it was a mutual makeup.”
I audibly gulp. “I wouldn’t be mad about that.”
“But first,” he says quietly, so hushed I can barely hear it, “I’d want to kiss you.”
My heart clangs against my ribs. My mouth tingles, anticipation humming through me. “I’d want that, too.”
He draws me closer, grunting with the effort, until I’m flush against him as we lie on our sides, one hand cupping his cheek, the other curled around his waist, gently kneading at his lower back. His eyes flutter shut. “Hold that thought,” he says. “Please.”
I still my hand.
He smiles. “I just want to be entirely focused on the kiss.”